woo hoo! i’m riding pretty high today, because i’ve broken through the glass ceiling!

that’s right, yours truly is currently in the top 10 of all time highest ranking posts at H-B (so far) and i’m the only girl. sweet!

1. 15 minute lunch – 70 points
2. mattress police – 48 points
3. mattress police – 46 points
4. 15 minute lunch – 40 points
5. 15 minute lunch – 38 points
6. the reasonable ego – 37 points
7. the reasonable ego – 33 points
8. try to keep up – 31 points
9. leighonline – 31 points
10. 15 minute lunch – 31 points

no, that post is not the one where i talked about my boobs, so actually, the only conclusion i can draw is that you like me, you really like me. and i like you too.

i have to admit, i much prefer hanging with the guys, because you’re a lot funnier. and well, you’re not bitches. in fact, i’ve almost given up on trying to be friends with women, because i can’t stand all the drama. it’s like high school never ended.

here’s a perfect example of what i mean. i have two girlfriends who are also friends with each other…or so i thought. this weekend we are all going to be out of town for a swim meet. i tried to plan for all of us to get together to eat dinner and have some drinks.

me: so i invited candy and her husband to come meet us for drinks.

mean girl all grown up:uhhhh….well, you know i think we might have to change our plans.

me: what?!

MGAGU: well, the last time we went out with them, their kids behaved terribly and there was an incident in the car involving a diaper that Dan (her husband) hasn’t gotten over yet.

me: oh…well, i thought you guys were friends.

MGAGU: oh, we are! i would be fine with it, it’s just i know Dan won’t want to go if they go. don’t tell her that though. well, if you guys change your mind, call us.

first, poor candy planned this girl’s birthday party earlier this summer and bought her an expensive gift! second, i know this is complete bulsh*t, and third she totally tried to clean her @ss with her husband!

how do i know she was cleaning her @ss with DAN? 

weren’t you paying attention? because men are not bitches! they could care less who’s going to dinner. it’s an hour. there will be beer. they can deal with it.

no, this was all her. plus, i don’t like LYING for other people, and having to keep secrets, mostly because i’m not very good at keeping my mouth shut. oh, did i forget to mention that candy is hot and MGAGU is a butterface? i guess i did.

you know what guys? i totally understand the ceiling thing. keep those bitches out. just as long as i can stay in.

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i’ve been getting some pretty disturbing google hits lately regarding a harmless post i wrote about my son at a swim meet.

apparently there are some dirty, dirty, googlers out there trolling the internet and they are stumbling onto my blog using the following seaches.

if someone finds me looking for MILF blogs, i’m totally down with that. what i’m not down with is, attracting pedophiles looking to get their jollies.

so i thought i’d give them a taste of their own medicine. so i replaced the sweet picture of my son, with this:

there! how’s that, you sorry sack of sh*t?

or how about this?

or this?

or this?

whoops! that’s probably you.

now get the hell out of my blog and don’t come back.

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it’s been a while since i did a flashback friday post and today, i’m going to go way back….to when i first started blogging, which was, oh about november.

originally, i wrote this back when i was only getting about 10 hits a day (and about half of those were my own) and i didn’t even get a SINGLE comment (aside from my sister a mere 3 months later), which can do serious damage to a fragile blogger’s ego. good thing i’m not sensitive.

however, this post continues to provide my biggest source of residual hits, all from googlers looking for rediculous 80s fashion pictures, so i think it’s worth a re-post.  there’s a bit of self disclosure going on in this one, and i’ve given myself a fair amount or sh*t, so feel free to knock yourself out.

***

i recently enjoyed reading this awesome panty-wetting post.

yes, the 70s were a groovy decade, but unfortunately, my experience with the 70s was more brady bunch than saturday night fever, so i feel a little gypped. but these great photos got me thinking, if style in the 70s could be reduced to an homage to white pantsuits, terry cloth, and chest hair, would history be kind to the 80s?

i began searching the internet for 80s fashion and realized that most people, like myself, are hiding their skeletons. so i decided the best place to go look was in my own closet.

i spent several hours trying to find where i had hidden the old photo albums and yearbooks, and after i found them, i remember why. despite my hopes of finding footloose, flashdancing girls that just wanted to have fun, i discovered what was really fashionable in the 80s was looking like your grandparents.

to say we looked ridiculous is a modest understatement. but we were just buying into a lifestyle that the clothes represented. similar to how white suburban kids are deluding themselves into thinking that running around with their pants hanging off their asses and calling each other bee-yotch makes them gangsta.

anyway, after looking at these pictures, i have decided that what the 80s were all about (MTV videos to the contrary) is clothes as birth control. there is nothing overtly sexy about any of this and frankly, it’s a wonder there was any sex going on at all. which may actually explain the massive consumption of alcohol which generally preceded any physical contact.

so, i wanted to share these pictures with you. keep this in mind while you’re looking at them. i live in texas. it’s freaking hot here… all the time.

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these pictures were in a section labeled “yep, they’re yups.” there are a lot of things that amuse me about this whole era, including the fact that in lieu of actually being a yuppie, you could just wear the clothes and pretend to be one. but what’s most amusing is that the word yuppie (initially coined as a demographic term which stood for young urban professional) later came to be used almost exclusively with the word *fucking* preceding it.

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these girls are covered from head to toe, except for the tramp on the left who has exposed her knees.

click for larger photo

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the only thing that saved this poor girl from a britney spears moment is about 8 inches of fabric.

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nothing says “hot” like peter pan collars, poofy sleeves and high-waisted pleated pants. no matter. this guy is just happy because this is the closest he’s ever getting to these girl’s clams.

click for larger photo

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and because black and white just does not do it justice…

if the clothes said virginal, then the makeup told an entirely different story. these girls did not believe in subtlety…or using a mirror.

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sailor suits were really in…and not just for 6 year olds.

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nope, this is not an 80s party. this is vintage 80s college partying. wearing shorts instead of a skirt at a kegger allowed much more freedom and ensured that you were comfortable. plus if you drank too much beer and passed out on the patio furniture, no one could see your underpants.

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i realized a certain amount of self outing was going to be necessary to allow for a full appreciation of this phenomenon. anyone who knows me knows that i never pass up a good opportunity to show off my rack, but back then, i had my priorities all screwed up.

do not ask me what the eff is up with my hair. i have no freaking idea.

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aviators were the coolest.

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i seem to recall that this type of pant was called a “go to hell” pant. which basically meant, “i’m going to wear these pants, and if you don’t like them, you can go to hell!” the more obnoxious the better. the guy wearing the “go to hell” pants (and the pornstache) was a four sticker (meaning he had a IV after his last name) and is now a gynecologist in the greater houston area, which i unexpectedly found out after picking a specialty physician from my healthcare provider. awk-ward.

click for larger photo

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sessie and dr. laura. sorry guys. love you.

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wearing long skirts is completely impractical because they seriously inhibit your mobility and you can fall flat on your face. which makes them perfect preppy attire when you’re going to someone’s ranch to drink a lot of liquor and shoot off firearms.

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• white turtleneck sweater with shoulder pads? check.
• pearl necklace? check.
• alligator belt? check.
• long tweed skirt past my knees? check.
• gold coin ring and tank watch with alligator strap? check.
• porsche carrera sunglasses? double check.

nothing says road trip quite like white opaque hosery.

…

and finally, it’s completely apparent from the look on his face that my date was not amused that i wore clothes under my toga. i never saw him again.

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whew! it’s good to know that the brouhaha from that last post has all blown over. who knew an innocent vacation photo could cause such a ruckus.

in fact, my friend diesel, has invited me to impart some of my blogging wisdom, such as it is, as long as i promise to keep my clothes on. this may prove difficult, based on how i’ve discovered this is the cause for my new-found popularity, but here goes.

join a blogging forum
joining humor-blogs was probably the best thing i ever did for myself, as far as blogging is concerned (shameless plug). i actually found H-B through johnny virgil’s blog. someone forwarded me his now infamous j.c. penney post, and i thought, “hey, i can do that!”

truthfully, i was a little scared at first. humor is so subjective and you never know if anyone is going to find you as funny as you find yourself, but having a support group is great.

come out of the shadows
lurking is ok for a while, but if you’re going to read other blogs, you should leave comments. i LOVE comments! that is how other bloggers will find you and you may generate a few loyal readers along the way.

do not steal!
plagiarism is a big blogging don’t. if you’re so hard up that you can’t come up with a decent post, then perhaps you shouldn’t be blogging at all.

i read blogs all the time and you should too. in fact, i get a lot of my ideas and inspiration from other blogs, but presenting someone else’s work as your own is just wrong. copyscape is a good place see if other people have been “borrowing” your work.

KISS (or keep it simple, stoopid)
this isn’t the time to try to write your dissertation. overly long posts do not get read, at least not when you don’t have an established audience.

and nobody is dennis miller, but dennis miller, so easy on the intellectualism. i find most people are funny if they just relax and be themselves.

watch your mouth
personally, i like profanity, and i think it can be used to great effect, as long as it’s done creatively. i can think of at least 57 different ways to use the “F” word and none of them involve actually writing out the entire word – eff, effing, freaking, friggin, fig, frack.

also don’t forget the creative use of the character keys. a well-placed “*” goes a long way. the possibilities are endless.

and, you won’t run the risk of alienating you’re more sensitive readers.

use graphics!
i’ve been told i’m not allowed to talk about boobs or show pictures of my boobs, however, i cannot emphasize enough how using pictures in your posts can help illustrate a point like words never could. 

case in point – one of my recent posts that included pictures managed to get diesel in hot water with mrs. diesel, give sinister dan a bad case of wind, and net me a whopping 557 hits in one day, which is a pretty big deal for me, and i wasn’t even trying!

however, i cannot confirm that the use of gratuitous flesh shots will work for everyone, as this may not be the case unless you have ovaries. you’ll have to ask brent and wolf.

plus, i love seeing pictures of the people whose blogs i read. it makes me feel connected to them.

easy on the kiddie stories
look, i’m a parent too, so i think my kids are the funniest, smartest, most talented, athletic, beautiful, blah, blah, blah… creatures that ever walked the planet.

does that mean that i should be writing about what they did, said, ate, drank, or pooped every second of every day? no it does not, unless i’m using my blog as a substitute for some much-needed primal scream therapy. and neither should you. mix it up. stretch yourself. and throw in a good kid post every once in a while. your readers will thank you.

you’ll thank me for hooking you up with more funny blogs.

i don’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. recently, i received the following comment on my post with my vacation pictures.

“Nothing is better for self-promotion than boob pics. Not that I’m pushing you one direction or another; just making an observation.”

since i’m such a lady, i won’t be naming any names (diesel), but you can go there and see for yourself who the perp is.

so this got me thinking, was this really a GBS (gratuitous boob shot) meant to increase my blog traffic? cos if so, it certainly didn’t work. so i decided to ask the expert on boobs – the hubs.

just to give you some background on how the hubs and i met, i’ll share the following story with you. before we got married, the hubs and i worked for the same company. i was a peon. he was my boss’s boss. so of course the following exchange is completely inappropriate on just about every level.

him: so you’re a runner?

me: only for fun. we drink beer after we’re done.

him: so what do you run in?

me: (wha?) ummm….the usual. shorts and a t-shirt…..why?

him: well, you’re boobs are so big, i thought you might need a special bra or something.

me: *crickets* (recovering) uh, you DO know that’s sexual harassment, don’t you?

him: (backpedaling) NO IT’S NOT!

me: yes, it is. and if i wasn’t so cool you’d be in a lot of trouble.

him: (sound of feet running away)

yeah, i married him anyway. obviously, NOT because of his superior knowledge of sexual harassment laws. but at least the man has good taste. to this day, he still maintains he was just concerned about my physical well-being, although he does not dispute that this conversation took place exactly as restated. yeah…whatever.

so i went to the source and asked the horse and according to him, this picture is nowhere near a GBS.

 however, this certainly is:

anyway, so now that we’ve got that all out of the way, please go to Humor-Blogs.com and click on the LOL face!

i’ve got a case of the mid-summer blues. our family went to galveston beach over the 4th and i just can’t seem to get motivated to do anything, especially not any REAL work, but the state of affairs over at humor-blogs has me a little concerned. it’s worse than a bunch of associate professors vying for tenure. it’s publish or perish!!!

so i figured in the interest of keeping myself alive over there, i would bore you share some of my vacation photos. i love the idea of going to the beach, but in theory, i much prefer a nice pool, because i can only handle so much sand in my crack. our mini vacation consisted mostly of hanging out by the pool and sneaking cocktails from our room cos that how we roll.

spending six hours a day at the pool is hard work for a small boy.

we ate out at almost every meal, which allows me to participate in one of my favorite activities.

the last day we went to the kemah boardwalk, which has a bunch of rides. we got wristbands and the kids spent hours running around like little maniacs.

while we were there i noticed something that made me question whether my daughter is actually the fruit of my loins. if i hadn’t been there while i was pushing her from my own bodily orifice, i’d be convinced we share no common genes.

observe:

ah, this boy is definitely mine.

if you want to see more of my vacation photos, click on the flickr badge.

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if you want to rate me at Humor-Blogs.com please click on the LOL face. other smiley face doesn’t do caca.

my sweet blog friend erin is always on top of things. today she just sent me the following gossip.

it seems that while i’ve been singing his praises, my boyfriend, jason statham, was recently seen on a date with that skanky, george clooney cast-off, sarah larson.

jason, jason, jason. if picking up george’s sloppy seconds is the way you want to go, then i just don’t know if we have a future together. i’m really disappointed in you. look, i know you have a thing for brunettes, but this chick is not even hot.

 let’s compare, shall we?

scary-skinny girl, who got dumped by george AFTER she got a boob job.  cocktail waitress in vegas with assorted gigs in which she appears semi-naked. star effing is not a career. she’s slept with george clooney. that guy’s had more tang than all the astronauts put together. there’s no telling what she may have picked up.	real girl with real (big) boobs.  i have my own money. i just want your body. and i have held a job for the last 10 years which has not required me to take off my clothes (unless it’s thursday and i’m not wearing any pants) one guy since 1995. clean as a whistle.

look jason, i’m willing to forget this all happened. as long as you agree not to see her anymore. i’m even willing to consider going brunette, just for you. as long as you know the carpet won’t match the drapes.

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yesterday my daughter made me cry. and not because she’s almost a teenager. i’m sure those days are coming soon though.

no, my daughter made me cry because she totally and completely wiped up the floor at the divisional swim meet held on sunday! she was kicking ass and taking names. she placed in every event she swam in, and took home one bronze and two silver medals.

and in the end, she walked away with the highest honor: top point scorer over all girls in her age group. hellz, yeah!

mommy cried tears of joy. hopefully this will happen a few more times before she turns 13.

 
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during the mid 80s, british groups were all over MTV, and the band dead or alive had one of the top club hits of 1985, you spin me right round (like a record baby). sorry, i know it’s in your head now.

this was a totally danceable ditty and the group’s frontman, pete burns, had everyone dancing in a new way. early 80s dancing had been sort of frenetic. think cyndi lauper swinging her arms all over the place and kicking her feet around. this was actually quite a workout.

but pete was too cool for that. he just kind of stood there, swiveling his hips and snapping his fingers…and his feet never moved. so of course, we all began dancing like this. moving your feet was sooooo 1983.

anyway, here’s our boy circa 1985.

big hair? check.
eyeliner? check.
brocade jacket? check.
pirate eyepatch? check.

sigh. he’s so “new romantic.” those british guys were so sexy in their makeup and androgynous clothes.  duran duran, boy george, george micheal. total studs. these guys were to the 80s what the emo bands are to the 2000s. and we all know it was just for show, right? all the guys from duran duran were marrying supermodels! and george micheal was so hot AND he dated brooke shields, for chrissakes!!

here’s our boy pete now.

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well… after that, the video is kinda anticlimatic. here it is anyway. check out pete at about 2:20 to catch his bitchin’ frozen-feet dance technique. plus, in retrospect, it appears he may have pioneered “oh no, he din’t” head-bob move WAY before anybody else. that’s at 1:44.

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one of my blog friends, hey joe, usually does the honors when someone passes on, but he’s on a cruise this week, so i guess it’s up to me.

we lost a comedy pioneer this weekend. george carlin died of heart failure on sunday. he was 71. carlin changed the face of comedy during the 1970s along with other comedic renegades like richard pryor (who sadly, died a few years ago.)

here’e one of his most well known bits. people who are offended by profanity should probably not watch this. don’t say i didn’t warn you. enjoy!

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